


Watch your back

by SinisterSundown



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: AltMal, M/M, freerunning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 08:56:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3113798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinisterSundown/pseuds/SinisterSundown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malik slowly licked over his lips, frowning even deeper. What was it with Altaïr always being there in a time of need? He was like an eagle, his eyes sharp, his senses alert, always seeing what happened around him. No matter how much he hated this guy he couldn't deny that he had a soft spot hidden somewhere on the inside.</p><p>(Freerunning AU; Modern AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watch your back

As they ran through the city, all Malik ever saw of Altaïr was his back.   
No matter how fast he ran, no matter how agile he moved, he felt like there was no chance to catch up with Altaïr. He considered the reason and – how could it be any different – his missing arm was the first thing coming to his mind.

Yes, sure, he always tried to convince himself that it wasn't an issue, that he could do anything Altaïr, Abbas and the other freerunners could do. But if he was completely honest with himself he had to admit that it was an actual burden.

At times when he had to pull himself up he had to rely on the strength in his right arm. The fact that he never had a secure grasp or a second arm to support himself with if needed was always in the back of his mind.   
Long distance jumps were hard as well. They required all his strength, all his concentration. One mistake and the outcome could be even worse for Malik than for someone who could maybe brace themselves for the impact. But what probably irked Malik the most was falling behind. It took him more time to get over obstacles, to get up walls or to take certain turns, just because of his arm or a lack thereof. And what did the others think of him, then? And most importantly, what did Altaïr think of him? That tosser didn't like it when Malik was running with them anyway, so he didn't need him thinking that he was slow. 

However. He only needed to imagine falling from one of the high-up roof tops for his guts to twist and turn.   
But whenever Malik's mind started to wander, he forcefully reminded himself of the most important rule of freerunning: Never think about what could possibly happen. 

So when his thoughts started to venture again, he mentally slapped himself and focused his attention back on the hooded men in front of him, checking which way they would choose.   
And with this his gaze fell back onto Altaïr's back once again,   
His eyes raked over Altair's broad shoulders and his slim back. Even though his body was covered with the white fabric of a hoodie, Malik was convinced that he could see every muscle moving underneath, the tension they held...every single fluent movement they made.

He wasn't quite sure what was wrong with him – not just today, but in general – and only looking at those shoulders moving in sync caused his thoughts to fall back to where they'd been only a few seconds before: his problem with long distance jumps. 

There had been an incident not too long ago, one of the first times Malik had gone into town with the others. Premiere. It had taken Malik some time to feel ready for this step. Running and jumping over obstacles in a training hall or even in the park was completely different from running in the city.   
Maybe it was because Malik had been a little nervous out of anticipation or maybe it had been because of self-doubts or maybe just simple coincidence.   
But it was a fact that it had happened even though these kind of accidents shouldn't have happened anymore when you had come to a certain level. 

 

They had been jumping over the roofs, the balustrades, stair cases...anything there was to climb on. Even though no one said it out loud: they were racing each other. Everyone wanted to show what they were made of, their skills, their condition. Of course Altaïr was ahead of them all, literally being the showoff he'd always been. Something Malik didn't bother too much with anymore. When he had first met the man he couldn't stand him at all, by now they could at least tolerate each other's presence...and sometimes even find peace in it.

However, in the beginning it hadn't been a problem for Malik to keep up with them but soon simple things had started to bother him...like, when the surface was slightly wet his grasp wasn't as firm as it was supposed to be. When they had to reach up to higher edges of walls or fences the momentum was either too much so that he had to roll off to catch himself or it was too weak, forcing him to strain his muscles to get on top of the platform. 

It wasn't easy, too many factors influenced how good his running was and reality was crashing down on him. Malik hated himself at this very moment. He hadn't run in the city for years and now his lack in skill was showing. It was discouraging, no, despiteful even...and especially distracting. 

His steps lost their confidence, his body giving in to the thought of not being good enough. And then it had happened because of lack of attention. When they jumped from one roof to the other he simply followed without thinking it through. He hadn't sped up, hadn't enough take-off power in his legs. Even though everything happened within a few seconds, to Malik it felt like minutes, like everything had happened in slow motion. 

His eyes had widened in horror when the consequences of his mistake dawned on him when he started to fall. In a desperate attempt to save himself, he had reached out with his arm to grab on to something, anything. But there wasn't anything but the edge of the roof. He slammed against the brick wall, skidding down, His legs had taken most of the damage because of the natural posture throughout a jump...and then- having more luck than anything else - his fingers had actually gotten a hold of the rain gutter.   
It had been ridiculous. 

Malik had been in dangerous situations throughout his entire life, some of them had been much worse than this one, so he hadn't been able to understand the panic that had come rushing over him.   
Desperately he'd tried to bring his aching legs into a position that would help him to push himself up, but the soles of his shoes just scraped over the concrete, unable to get a good stance.   
In his despair he'd even tried to call out for someone, but something inside him had kept him from it. Fear, shock...maybe even pride.   
Whatever it could have been, it had kept him from calling out the names that were lingering on his lips. Thinking back to this moment of weakness right now made him angry that the name of Kadar hadn't been the first one coming to his mind, which made it not only ridiculous, but embarrassing and stupid as well. Not to mention confusing.

While hanging there Malik had felt how his fingers had gotten weaker, how the strength in his arm had drained completely. And then, just when his movements became more desperate, he had felt a strong hand grabbing onto his arm, how warm fingers dug into his flesh.   
When he looked up, a haunted and restless look on his face, he saw something he hadn't expected to see. 

Altaïr's brown eyes, hidden by the hood of his jacket, stared down at him with something in them Malik couldn't read. If the situation wouldn't have been so serious he might have wondered about its meaning, but it hadn't been the time.   
Instead Malik had fought his fear and had forced his fingers to let go of the rain gutter. Instead he held on to Altaïr's while said man reached down and buried his fingers in the fabric of his clothes. While Altaïr had tried to pull him up Malik had finally gotten a good stance against the wall. With this Altaïr had pulled and Malik pushed, and then, finally, Malik had solid ground beneath his feet again, the feeling just as reassuring as sobering. 

 

While Malik had tried to catch his ragged breath he'd waited for Altaïr to say something degrading, something to make fun of him and the usual stuff about Malik being a cripple. But nothing came. Instead Altaïr had gotten back to his feet, had turned his back to Malik and had straightened his back. “Take better care of yourself next time.” he heard the well known voice with its usual tint of hauteur but also something unknown in it, something that sounded kind of pleasant but a little scaring as well. 

Something Malik hadn't been able to deal with or think about up until now. “I will.” had been his reply back then, and luckily Altaïr never brought the incident back up again. Something he was actually grateful for, and he made sure to let Altaïr know that he truly appreciated his help...of course without saying it. They just couldn't talk like this with each other, could they? 

Today they were running through the city again, but there was a huge difference to Malik between the first time and now. He'd gained back his experience. He'd learned how to do his jumps, how he had to use his strength in certain moments or how he had to deal with certain surfaces. He might have known how to do all of these things before he'd lost his arm but he had to learn all of them again,even develop new ways of doing the vaults with only one arm. So the contemporary day of running was more like routine and relaxation after a long day of work in the bureau than anything else to him. 

By now his movements were as fluent as they were in the hall, his natural talent for agility was showing, too. Something Malik was especially proud of. Agility. Even though he still fell behind sometimes – his way of getting over obstacles or to get up walls was just a little more inconvenient and exhausting than the usual way – it was no big problem to catch back up to the other six runners.   
They were currently running through the streets of the industrial area of the city, a place which was perfect for runners like them, as if it was made only for them. A lot of scaffoldings, fire ladders, balustrades, rain water down pipes and empty factory buildings. The best part of it was that there was no one who was yelling after them for doing reckless things and no one who'd call the police because of unauthorized access of rooftops. 

It only had a really big downside, which made it kind of dangerous to run there: the criminals. Neglected parts of cities were always attractive to people who broke a law (they were in a way one of them after all) so it wasn't especially rare to see ominous creatures here and there, exchanging even more ominous products or money. Luckily this has been something Malik had only ever seen from a distance or read in the newspapers. Since some of the runners in their group were still rather young Abbas and Altaïr tried to guide them away from the most critical areas. (If one would ask Malik he'd say that this wasn't Altaïr's idea since this guy surely was someone who was looking for trouble.) 

But one could not always avoid the unpleasant things. Malik had expected it to happen, but he hadn't expected it to happen to Altaïr himself. It was weird to Malik when the slightly taller man slowed down, looking into an entirely different direction than Abbas and the group were heading to. Malik was in the very back of their group because he'd grown comfortable with this position, his eyes always fixed on this fascinating back. Which was why he was the one noticing how Altaïr seceded from the group. Abbas noticed it too, he now being the one leading the group. Altaïr gave him a sign to keep going, that he'd come after them in a minute and Malik wondered what he was planning now. 

So he slowed down too, while Kadar and the others followed Abbas. He was too curious, too intrigued of how Altaïr suddenly lowered his body, as if he wanted to sneak up to something or someone. Even though his head was covered by the usual white hood it wasn't hard for Malik to tell that he had his eyes cast down to the alley between the two houses they were running on. Instinctively Malik lowered his body too, his feet making no sound as they slowly approached Altaïr. Now Malik was the one sneaking, his eyes never leaving the back of Altaïr's head, his shoulders, his back. He was like a photographer in the wild who just caught a lion approaching the waterhole, trying to take a picture of this oh so majestic creature. 

But then Altaïr did something Malik hadn't expected. Within a second the man's body shot up, he jumped, held on to one of the rain water downpipes, sliding down and then disappeared out of Malik's vision. His heart had skipped a beat, out of surprise not of worry before he quickly ran up to the edge.   
While running up he heard a muffled cry of surprise and pain and when Malik reached the edge of the roof he saw Altaïr towering above a man who was lying on the ground. As he tried to get up Altaïr kicked him hard into the guts, this time a pained grunt escaping the man's throat as he collapsed onto the ground. 

Malik furrowed his brows, his knuckles standing out white as he clutched his hand into a fist. What was this idiot doing? Was he now taking down random people for no reason? Just as he wanted to stand up and call down to Altaïr he noticed someone huddled between a dumpster and the wall. Malik tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, trying to make out the features of the figure. Only when Altaïr straightened himself and approached the person and reached out for them to help them up he could see who it was. It was a young woman, not older than his brother, probably, whose shirt was ragged. Tears were streaming down her face as she took Altaïr's hand to get up to her feet. 

Malik slowly licked over his lips, frowning even deeper. What was it with Altaïr always being there in a time of need? He was like an eagle, his eyes sharp, his senses alert, always seeing what happened around him. No matter how much he hated this guy he couldn't deny that he had a soft spot hidden somewhere on the inside. Helping people in unpleasant situations, maybe even saving their lives...He didn't want to smile, he really didn't want to, but there was nothing he could do about it. Malik's lips twitched and finally formed a small smile. Good that this guy couldn't see it, because honestly, he wouldn't want him to think that he approved of anything the other did. 

The smile vanished from his face when he heard voices coming closer and before he knew it four more men came round the corner. They stopped in their tracks, eyes fixed on the guy lying on the ground and quickly their dumbfounded expressions turned into angry ones.   
“Hey you bastard!” one of them yelled, the burliest one of them. “Did you do this?!”  
The girl let out a high pitched and frightened sound, trying to find safety in the corner and behind Altaïr.  
“Isn't that obvious?” Altaïr's voice answered and Malik couldn't help it but roll his eyes. This guy really never knew when it was time to just shut up and get the hell out of there, did he? 

The burly guy didn't like the answer Altaïr gave him, neither did his friends. “We'll teach ya t' mess with 's!” another one of the four yelled, having a weird slang that sounded absolutely stupid to him.   
“Don't make me laugh...!” Altaïr gave back, letting out a chuckle. Malik could tell that it wasn't just to piss them off but because he actually considered them as nothing but a joke. And there he was again, Altaïr with his nose up high in the air. 

But while he didn't even bother to get annoyed by the other's attitude (his attitude was the only way of being able to tell that he was still the Altaïr he knew) he felt something else rising inside him. Worry. Because if Altaïr liked it or not, he was alone and they were four strong looking guys. He didn't doubt that Altaïr could take them down by himself...but only if they would fight fair. He could imagine them having knives or guns very well. He gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes, considering what he was supposed to do. 

While Malik was going through his options in his mind the four guys were approaching Altaïr who made himself taller to protect the scared woman behind him. Malik was sure that if he would have the option to let her run, he would, but sadly there was no way of getting her past those bullies without risking her getting hurt (or even undressed) in the process. 

Malik unconsciously shifted, so that he was sitting in a crouched position on the edge, his eyes searching for a way to get down, a way even he could take without breaking his own neck. He chewed on his lips, his gaze returning to the scene downside just to see how the burly guy came to a halt right in front of Altaïr, their chests almost touching as the guy tried to intimidate Altaïr. 

Now that they were standing in front of each other Malik noticed that the other guy was slightly taller than him. Since Malik was still up on the roof he couldn't see Altaïr's reaction to the attempt of the guy, but he could imagine the cocky grin on his lips which would only infuriate his opponent. And within the blink of an eye burly-guy had formed his hand into a fist, reached out and tried to hit Altaïr in the face. He winced, as if his body wanted him to jump down and help, but his mind told him to wait, told him to even trust Altaïr with this. 

And his brain was right. As if it was nothing Altaïr dodged the attack, causing burly-guy to stumble while slang-guy and the other two (Malik decided to call them bald-guy and tattoo-guy) looked at each other in shock as if it was the first time in their criminal existence that someone actually dared it to dodge instead of just standing there like a dummy. Before burly-guy could get back to his feet Altaïr made an almost elegant turn before he kicked him into the knee pit. A painful cry followed and the tall man fell to his knees. 

Slang-guy and the tattooed one decided that it was time to help their leader out, and again it looked almost too easy how Altaïr avoided their fists. Malik almost laughed when he saw their expression, like they've just seen Allah himself. It didn't take them long to regain their composure, now even more aggravated than before. Slang-guy backed away, his bald friend joining him since he now was ready to fight as well. Malik's eyes narrowed as he saw the iron bar in his hands,not surprised at all. He had expected them to fight dirty in the first place. 

Malik couldn't think about it for long, a painful scream echoing through the alley. His head turned immediately just to see the tattooed guy cowering on the ground. “That scumbag broke my hand!” he yelled, his right hand embracing the other one which looked a little limp, bruises already starting to grace the pale wrist.   
Altaïr chuckled as he shifted his weight, a smile prominent on his half-hidden face. “Is that all you got?” he asked. 

But of course the bragging had its price. Because in the meantime the burly man had gotten back to his feet and had punched Altaïr into his side, causing the freerunner to stumble to the side. It didn't look like a hard impact but it surely had caught Altaïr off guard. The moment of surprise was the leader's chance to dive in, shove his arms under Altaïr's arms and brought him into a position in which his arms and shoulders were blocked. If Altaïr would move now he'd immediately break his own arms. 

“You're so full of yourself, it's time we teach you a lesson!” the burly guy hissed with a cruel grin, his companions joining in with their laugher. “Charlie, show him why no one messes with us.” the leader ordered and now it was slang-guy who wanted to play unfair, pulling out a knife. The woman in the back screeched, repeating a “Stop it, stop it!”again and again as slang-guy Charlie approached Altaïr who was suspiciously calm in the burly guy's grip. And then, just when slang-guy was about to slash out with his knife, Malik moved in. 

His body moved on its own, jumping over the gap between the two roofs just like Altaïr had done it before, clinging to the rain water downpipe. He skidded before he pushed himself off of the wall, leaping down like a raven who finally found its prey, taking down the armed man with his entire body weight. 

“You always have to boast, don't you?” he asked out of breath, not because of the physical straining jump he just managed but because of the inner tumult he was feeling. Altaïr, who had used the moment of shock and surprise to his advantage, had kicked the burly guy into his tibia and then freed himself out of the grip, crashing his elbow into the man's face. There was an ugly crack coming from the man's nose and blood splashed out of the now broken nose, staining Altaïr's white hoodie with blood. 

Burly-guy cried out and covered his nose, cursing loudly while bald-guy tightened his grip around the iron bar. “I wouldn't call it boasting.” Altaïr replied, looking at the bloodstain in disgust before he pulled his hood deeper into his face. Malik rolled his eyes. Well, at least he hadn't expected Altaïr to say something like 'Thank you' because seriously...he wouldn't survive the shock of this guy even having this sentence in his vocabulary. 

“You'll regret that y' cripple.” he heard slang-guy Charlie groan and Malik took a step away from him as he tried to get up. The guy with the iron bar helped him up as well, now all three of them having some kind of weapon at them. Even the burly one with the broken nose now held a knife in his hand. Malik felt like an animal which was cornered by hunters, just that he felt like this situation was more than ludicrous than anything else. They weren't really strong nor were they smart. He was sure that Altaïr could have taken them down on his own if he wouldn't have been so imprudent. 

Suddenly he felt something against his own back and when he turned his head a little he saw that it was Altaïr, their backs now resting against each other. A smile tugged on the black haired man's features as he focused back on slang-guy and bald-guy while Altaïr faced their leader. “You better get out of here...” he heard Altaïr say and even though Malik took it for another one of his conceited actions he heard the amusement in his voice. So they were playing their little game again, huh? 

“Let's face it, without my help you'd be Swiss-style cheese by now.” Malik gave back as he brought his arm into a position of defence, fist ready to strike a hit, though.   
“I could have freed myself without your so called 'help'.” Altaïr shot back as he lowered his body a little, ready to leap at the burly man who was about to lose his non-existing patience.   
“This sounds more like you're trying to convince yourself than me.” Malik chuckled as he dodged the attack with the iron bar, just to grip it and pull it out of the man's hand just to hit him hard into the guts with its end. 

Malik wanted to return into their position, back against back to not have a blind angle, but then he saw how slang-guy interfered, about so slash his knife into his back. Malik couldn't turn in time, already seeing himself struck down by this lousy excuse of a man as he suddenly stumbled and fell. Malik, looking wide eyed at Altaïr who stomped onto the other's spine to knock him out, couldn't believe it. Did Altaïr just save his butt once again?   
“Seems like you are the one needing my help, not visa versa.” Altaïr said with a grin on his lips, again taking his guard down. 

And then it was Malik who saw something that Altaïr didn't see coming in time. Because while Altaïr was busy being the usual boasting asshole the leader reached out with his own knife, trying to ram it between Altaïr's shoulder blades. Malik, who was still holding on to the iron bar winded up and threw the bar with all his strength, hitting the man hard against the head. Within a second the man slumped down, not moving anymore.   
“I think you want to reconsider what you just said.” Malik simply answered with a sly smile. 

Now that all their opponents were unconscious (besides tattoo-guy who was still weeping because of his bruised arm) they were looking at each other, Altaïr's brown eyes slightly showing under his hood. They both had a faint smile on their faces, probably not being aware of this fact at all. They held each other's gaze for a while, standing there in appreciative silence until the shaky voice of a woman destroyed the moment. 

Malik had completely forgotten about the young lady who was slowly stepping out of her corner, trying to cover her slightly exposed body.   
“A-are you alright?” she asked, sniffling and Malik furrowed his brows. She really should get inside. He approached her and unzipped his hoodie, taking it off with the usual movements which probably looked unhandy to people with two arms, covering her shoulders a little clumsily with the fabric. Probably it was stupid of him, considering that she couldn't even wear it because of the sewn-up sleeve, but for now it would be enough. “We are.” he confirmed, ignoring the fact that Altaïr looked a little ragged from the fight. “You should go home. We'll take care of them.” he said gently and the woman managed a weak smile and a shaky nod. 

She reached up and held on to the hoodie around her shoulders. “Thank you.” she whispered, first looking at Malik then at Altaïr for a long time. “I don't even want to imagine what would have happened if you hadn't showed up.” she added and again she teared up, her eyes starting to swim in tears. She walked past Malik and approached Altaïr who didn't say a word, not even when she got on her tiptoes, pushed off his hood and kissed his cheek before she quickly ran off, probably eager to get home as fast as possible. 

Altaïr looked after her for a while and Malik was fascinated by how calm the other suddenly looked. As if he was at ease. Then, suddenly, the moment was gone and Altaïr pulled his hood into his face again, turning his head to face Malik.   
“What?” he asked, a little sullen.   
Malik shrugged, now standing there in a t-shirt which was luckily still covering his stump, straightening his back.   
“Nothing. Just thinking that you aren't as much of an asshole as you always pretend to be.” he said.   
Altaïr just stared at him, Malik could feel it. And then, like usual, Altaïr just “Tsk”ed at him, turning his back to him and started to run. 

Malik watched him go, watched how he climbed up the wall and vanished on the roof. Only then, when Altaïr was already gone, he took one last glance at the men on the floor before he started to run, too, getting up the wall with several vaults as well. In the distance he could see Altaïr, his back like usual appealing as his shoulder blades moved in sync. A smile spread on Malik's lips as he started to run after him, his shoulders moving in sync as well. 

And for the first time Malik thought that watching Altaïr's back wasn't so bad.


End file.
